


Chasing Dragons

by GoodLuckMochi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Healer Draco Malfoy, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Secret Relationship, Sort of? - Freeform, hopeful?, just mentioned as a possibility
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodLuckMochi/pseuds/GoodLuckMochi
Summary: Charlie's moved back to England to take up the Care of Magical Creatures position at Hogwarts. One night late into summer he discovers an unexpectedly welcome guest at his mother's family feast. He also picks up on something else...
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Charlie Weasley, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 39
Kudos: 178





	1. Chapter 1

He stared down at his companion, passed out with exhaustion in the dim, close confines of the bedroom. A sliver of moonlight sliced through the darkened room, highlighting Draco’s alabaster skin, bringing out the shine where he was still damp after their recent exertions. The reflected light allowed him to admire the sharp, fine features at rest upon the pillow, exquisitely fair hair splayed out in a curiously vulnerable fashion. Draco looked younger at rest, which should have come as no surprise: he _was_ young, and merely aged prematurely when aware of the weight of his past upon his shoulders.

o/ ~ * ‘ * ‘ ~

Scorched tea saucers set around the Burrow’s garden and meadow helped illuminate the space with the light of Ember Motes lured in by offerings of kindling and the promise of a few words of power. The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm, flattering glow upon the land and people gathered to celebrate Fleur’s recent promotion.

Really, Molly enjoyed any excuse to gather her family home.

Small gatherings of people dotted the yard and the lights blazed up within the Burrow as the angled sunlight signaled the end of day. Charlie was home, had helped celebrate his own return several weeks past, and took advantage of his role as returned son to enjoy a bit of solitude. He’d been swarmed virtually since his arrival, and tonight’s party had people better acquainted with one another drifting together naturally.

A quiet popping sound came from the road outside the front gate, followed by what sounded awfully similar to the sharp crack of fireworks – fizzing included – that had Charlie glancing over and going still. George pushed the gate open and was guiding an oddly relaxed looking Draco Malfoy into the yard.

He looked good, Charlie observed, straightening where he sat on the broad stump of the tree that had supplied the initial lumber involved in the Burrow’s construction. He’d lost some color over time, once again the milk pale Charlie remembered from the occasional Prophet article photo, but he’d kept the layer of muscle he’d developed over his time in Romania and his face didn’t seem ready to return to the pinched, expecting-a-beating expression he’d once sported. He wore sturdy looking pale grey trousers and a simple white button up shirt that boasted more pockets than a Malfoy should have been willing to be seen in, but he also sported a gentle smile upon his face.

What was this? He hadn’t heard anything about the rest of the family making nice with the once haughty pureblood. He might have hoped, at one point, to broach the subject with them but that time was long passed.


	2. Chapter 2

Drawing a light hand over Draco’s pale form, he gently pressed his fingertips into that flesh, enjoying the firm resilience he found there. Draco felt healthy; his grip in the throes of passion was firm without being needy. Draco’s expressions so open, so _joyous,_ it felt like a guilty secret afterward. He doubted Draco was aware of what he let show during sex. But perhaps he was; perhaps it was a conscious sharing of his state of mind as he willingly shared his body. Perhaps this was more meaningful than he’d realized.

o/ ~ * ‘ * ‘ ~

It was subtle, Charlie decided, but old familiarity and observation made it clear: Harry had something going with Draco. Mostly it was the way Draco would look at Harry when he was unaware of being observed, which wasn’t very often with as busy as the Burrow was that night. Perhaps it helped that they remained apart most of the time. Draco tended to hover at George’s side, while Harry seemed to be inseparable from Ginny.

Charlie watched as Mum and Dad treated Draco with exasperated fondness, as though they’d told him to use their given names and make himself at home and _no, that’s fine, you don’t need to help in the kitchen,_ but it had made no difference in how he behaved each time he visited. His accent remained crisp, his demeanor respectful, his assistance determined.

Mostly he focused on the people he and George conversed with. Every so often though, his eyes would dance over the assembled family, softening and warming for a split second as they located Harry, before cooling to a more socialy-curious as they continued looking around and ultimately returning to his conversational partners.

George hadn’t made his way to Charlie’s small oasis, but he’d be getting here eventually. In the meantime, Charlie took a little more time examining Harry’s behavior.

An arm draped around Ginny’s waist, her head leaning against his shoulder, exchanging secret smiles whenever they weren’t engaged in conversation. Charlie had heard his mother making noises about another wedding on the horizon but had assumed it was something to do with George. The way his sister seemed melded to the Golden Boy’s side, and the way his family acted as though this was normal, suggested perhaps Charlie had guessed wrong.

But Charlie also saw the surreptitious looks Harry kept throwing in George and Draco’s direction. Charlie saw Harry’s eyes grow dark and heavy lidded as he looked Draco up and down once Ginny had departed for a minute to refresh their drinks.

And Charlie noticed the small, pinched expression of hurt that crossed Draco’s forehead each time Harry leaned down to give Ginny a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

“Fuck,” Draco breathed, hands gripping the pillow behind his head, elbows jutting into the air to either side of his rapturous face, lips parted, brows drawn together. “Please!” he moaned, eyes drifting open to gaze up in supplication even as he lifted a foot to pull his partner in.

He soothed his lover with a broad hand over his chest, thumbing one sensitive, unbelievably pink nipple before stroking up over Draco’s bared throat. His palm rested momentarily over the Adam’s apple, absently caressing that tender, oddly intimate space – everyone could see it, but no one else was allowed to touch it. The edge of his hand spanning between thumb and forefinger scraped lightly at Draco’s stubble – a fine, near impossible to see growth even this late into the night. That was another thing he loved, how different Draco’s body was from his own darker, bulkier, hairier form.

Draco was wisps of smoke beside a block of granite.

o/ ~ * ‘ * ‘ ~

“Charlie!” George shouted, as though they hadn’t seen one another two days ago over breakfast right here at the Burrow. He threw himself into his older brother’s arms and gave his best bear hug, which earned him one in return, except George’s joints began snapping and popping under the pressure and Charlie had to let go before he broke his little brother in half. George simply grinned back with delight, twisting to the left and the right and rotating his shoulders with ease as though he’d just had a quick visit to a back Healer. “Fantastic!”

Charlie simply shook his head with a smile before turning to Draco with shy grin. “Draco,” he began, holding out his hand in greeting.

“Charles,” Draco responded, accepting the hand before giving a light tug, an invitation for a hug which Charlie quickly accepted.

Merlin, it felt so good to have Draco back in his arms. Charlie tried not to be too obvious about the way he turned his head to take a sniff of Draco’s hair. He must’ve succeeded to some extent, as George didn’t immediately begin teasing him about it, though he thought he spotted some color blooming across Draco’s high, pale cheekbones. It was harder to tell, with the only light being supplied by Ember Motes. Charlie shot him a wink and a weak, almost apologetic shrug.

“Well go on then,” George urged. “Draco’s been quite mum about you, Charlie, and your letters home weren’t exactly dripping with information about it. Tell me the good stories about the time you were both working on the reserve!”

Draco huffed an exasperated chuckle but tipped his head at Charlie and gave an eye roll. “I’ve told you all the good stories, George, and none of them involved Charles. He fucked up far less often than any of the other wranglers.” He angled a curious look at George. “I suppose Charles and Percival were the last of you Weasleys imbued with caution and proper common sense.”

“Oi! What do you think you’re saying about my baby sister!” George yelped.

“The woman plays professional Quidditch with the Harpies,” Draco reminded him. “Caution and common sense are the enemy of Quidditch.”

“Well.” George paused, then gave a nod and a grin. “Alright then. So long as your accusations aren’t baseless.”

It had gone full dark, and the yard remained lit by the Ember Motes, strategically placed wherever Mum knew her children best liked to sneak off to. When George noted Draco’s interest in the Embers, he explained how he and Fred had first discovered them during a community Midsummer celebration as children, which had led to researching them and learning how to tame them for a short duration.

Charlie admitted his greater tolerance for fire had sprung from the twins’ taming of the Embers.

George and Draco spent the rest of the time before dinner chatting with and teasing Charlie, and Charlie slowly became aware of the dark looks he was beginning to earn from Harry. Mostly, whenever he’d managed to get Draco to laugh aloud.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco sat curled up in the loveseat set to face the window. He had a chunky, awkward, oversized but clearly lovingly handmade mug of what smelled like cocoa in his hands, and he was staring off into space in the silent moments before sunrise.

He’d woken up alone in bed, reaching over to stroke that warm satin skin, only to find the bedding cool to the touch and partially made. A trip to the loo for a quick slash had followed, before he’d made his way to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

The familiar silhouette of Draco from behind in the pre-dawn light had stopped him in his tracks, something in his chest swelling and pulsing with the pleasure at finding the other man still here, still soft and quiet in his home. He’d padded softly across the room, leaned over to press a kiss of greeting to that sleep mussed hair, before continuing on to prepare his caffeine fix and then returning to Draco’s side to witness the sun cresting the horizon.

o/ ~ * ‘ * ‘ ~

Having returned home most recently after his years away, Charlie sat to his mother’s left. He was unsurprised to find Draco seated across from him, once again beside George (probably so Mum could keep an eye on her remaining twin). Fleur was to Charlie’s left, Bill sandwiching their children in between them. Ginny was beside George as usual, her favorite bother, with Harry at her other side, Teddy making faces across the table at Victoire.

The Burrow was quite packed, though not nearly so full as it would get over the winter holidays, and the occasional Midsummer involving the extended Weasley clan and sometimes even some Prewitts. It felt like home, and also completely unlike home.

Charlie remembered the table packed with brothers and a sister, Mum frazzled, loving, and stern, Dad a benevolent source of support for them all. The table hadn’t been magicked to fit more people yet, each of the chairs were unique and not duplicated, the noise had been cacophonous and bright with excited, young voices.

Even before the twins had been born, Mum and Dad had planned to have a great big family and prepared the family living spaces accordingly. The whimsical addition of each bedroom as the youngest outgrew the “nursery” had always been a family event, with Mum’s extended family and Dad’s brother and sisters coming to lend their magic to the cause.

When he’d been quite young, Charlie imagined he’d want to do something like that when he had children. As he’d grown older, he’d realized that having children might not be in his future – not all partners wanted children at all, though he doubted he’d ever settle down with anyone who didn’t want any children, ever. Then he’d been out on his own, and children hadn’t seemed like the sort of thing someone working with dragons could devote themselves to properly, but at the back of his mind, always, he’d known he’d age out of wrangling dragons and into the hunt for a life partner, and eventually children of his own to raise.

Romping with dragons hadn’t left him in the frame of mind necessary for starting a long term, committed relationship. Which was a large part of why now, two years later and back home in England, his mind was having a hard time not obsessing over the Malfoy heir. Sitting across a table, trying not to be caught staring by his own mother, he worked on focusing on Ginny and Harry instead.

Charlie had never gotten particularly close to Harry, though he thought he knew the younger man through the rest of his family reasonably well. Not enough to recognize subtle tells. Charlie did know Ginny quite a lot better, though of course she’d grown up quite a bit over the last two decades and had become capable of some degree of subtlety.

For as much as the pair were clearly tooth-rottingly close, there was more humor than adoration in Ginny’s expressions. Perhaps that didn’t mean a whole lot to the rest of the family, used to the interplay between those two on a regular basis, but Charlie doubted anyone else was bothering to look at them from the perspective of someone concerned about Harry’s intentions toward a man who appeared to be a regular guest.

“But if perhaps if you could keep your hands off each other for more than ten seconds, you’d manage to eat some of your dinners,” Percy was grousing from further down the table, sending the rest of the family into gales of laughter, while Draco’s expression pinched for a moment before easing into one of humorous distaste.

Ginny untangled herself from Harry’s side enough to spoon-a-pult some peas toward Percy, which led to several parents abruptly focusing on their freshly inspired offspring to prevent an all out food fight from starting. Mum sent Ginny a quelling glare, only revealing an exasperated grin once Ginny had sheepishly looked away.

“Oh, don’t worry Mum,” George murmured, peering around his guest. “Draco’s survived enough Burrow food fights that he doesn’t mind, do you Draco?”

Draco sighed through a mouthful of potatoes, a gentle smirk working it’s way onto his face. After a swallow and quick pat from his napkin, “Even if I hadn’t, I did attend Hogwarts with most of you.”

“It’s the example it sets for the babies!” Mum moaned. “It’s one thing to be squirrelly with your siblings, but the children hadn’t yet graduated into figuring it out on their own…”

“Aaah, Mum, don’t worry about it,” George waved her concerns away. “It won’t be your problem to clean up the mess, it’ll be Bill and Percy’s! I’ll have a word with their wives to make sure they know it’s a Weasley responsibility, and not to let your sons foist the task upon them.”

“Have a word with the children, to make sure they know not to do it when their fathers aren’t around,” Draco suggested, his smirk turning into a shark-like grin.

Charlie had to work to ignore the twitch in his lap; it had been so long since he’d been present for Draco’s snark, benign as it was. Merlin, he hadn’t had to worry about inappropriate thoughts this close to his own mother in years, and he didn’t appreciate the reminder of that special form of awkwardness. A glance at his mother showed that she was pretending to ignore the suggestion, while a distinctly amused gleam had entered her eye. A moment later, she edged her hand closer to Draco on the tabletop to get his attention, and shot him a wink and a nod before returning to her chicken.


	5. Chapter 5

He realized the mistake a moment after the words left his mouth. Draco’s frame tightened abruptly, but he didn’t say a word, simply straightening where he stood, pointedly looking away, and turning to start cleaning up the minor chaos created while preparing tea.

“Draco,” he began, but gulped his words back down when Draco made a dismissive flapping gesture with one hand.

“Consider it done.” Draco snapped. “It’s not like I’ve left much here that needs finding. I can have all my things out of here before I head out for work.”

He moved forward trying to bracket his lover in against the counter, a hand on the counter to either side of Draco’s hips, drawing his nose down the slope of Draco’s neck, savoring the mixture of Draco’s aftershave and the clean warmth of his natural musk, then back up to press a light kiss below his ear. “I didn’t mean it like that, Draco, you know-“

“It’s fine,” Draco interrupted. “It’s not a hardship. I can…” he sighed, the teapot whisked over to the sink to begin washing, the tin of tea dancing overhead and hiding itself behind the generic tea and his basic spice collection. Quietly, “I can bring it back later, if necessary.” There was a hurt resignation buried deep in his voice, deeply enough that it would be missed by anyone who hadn’t gotten to know Draco rather well.

Guilt ate away at him, but he couldn’t take his words back. Draco didn’t deserve to be treated like this, but the rest of the family wasn’t ready to hear about this relationship, either.

Or perhaps he wasn’t ready for this relationship to make that leap. And that was even worse.

Draco hadn’t held himself back the way one might expect a former Slytherin to have done. Draco had accepted his hesitance, his hang-ups, and offered all the apologies he might have needed, given their history. It wasn’t just about the two of them, either, after the way Draco had treated his loved ones.

But there had been a hopeful expectation he’d been trying not to notice from Draco. An eagerness at having moved past resentment over Draco’s juvenile behavior. Draco hadn’t gotten much validation from his father, and it was clear he sought some form from his lovers, it was even something they’d discussed and they’d sort of come to an agreement, but this whole thing would throw all of that into disarray.

Draco’s head dropped forward and he nudged at one caging hand. “I need to go look for my things and finish getting ready to head out. We can talk later if you’d like.”

o/ ~ * ‘ * ‘ ~

Charlie had finally gotten Draco alone, settled into the porch swing made up of the handles of long defunct family brooms no longer worth their bristles but still eager to be of use. George needed to have a talk with Ron about the business, and he knew it was safe to leave Charlie with his guest.

Bill and Fleur were monitoring all the mobile toddlers, guiding them through somersaults and a makeshift obstacle course on the front lawn. Ron and George were propped up against the fence to either side of the front gate, Hermione and Percy were inside helping Mum clean up after dinner and probably discussing some mind-numbingly boring piece of legislation that was coming up for a vote in the Wizengamut. Ginny and Harry sat off to one side of the children’s play area, Ginny between Harry’s legs and leaning back against his chest as they chatted softly while watching the littles play. Every so often, Teddy would dart away from the pack to crawl over the couple and babble at them with visible excitement, before tearing back across the grass to tumble into either Bill or Fleur’s legs.

The moon was low in the sky, setting quite early, and the Ember Motes continued to dance in their saucers, the two nearest catching Draco’s hair, turning it a rather fetching shade of strawberry blond. Charlie elected not to point that out to him, instead simply admiring the colors his friend’s skin, hair, and eyes took on in the soft light.

“How’s England treating you, then?” Charlie asked, casually settling an arm behind Draco, along the back of the swing. “Better?”

“Better than it was, certainly,” Draco agreed. “That sets the bar rather low, I suppose, but it really hasn’t been bad at all.” He turned away from the scene on the lawn and gave Charlie his full attention. “There are a few people here and there who can’t be bothered to be civil, but everyone I’m working with is more interested in Creature and Being welfare than settled politics. It’s easy enough to patronize businesses that either are more forgiving than others, or even supported the wrong side during the War and prefer my kind over yours.”

Charlie settled his hand on Draco’s far shoulder and leaned forward slightly. “Our side, Draco,” he corrected. “You were never allowed to make an informed decision until they’d already claimed you, and while-“

“We’ve discussed this already, Charles,” Draco murmured, setting a soothing hand on Charlie’s knee. Turned away from the action as he was, Draco was unaware of the glare being directed their way. “You weren’t here for most of what happened, and you can’t really understand what I did, or the consequences. While I appreciate your trying to ease my mind, it’s not a task that’s up to you.” His grey eyes warmed with a gentle smile. “I appreciate your faith in me and who I am now. It’s always nice to find people willing to let me attempt to move forward.”

He couldn’t do anything other than return that smile, and he felt himself shifting into Draco’s space. “Made any new friends through work, yet?”

Draco proceeded to share observations of his co-workers with Charlie, occasionally making broad gestures with his hands to illustrate points or mimic someone’s mannerisms. There were some characters in Draco’s division, but they all seemed like great fun. If he weren’t already working with Rubeus to prepare to take over Magical Creatures at Hogwarts, Charlie might have considered applying to the Ministry department, himself.

Still, he preferred working more with the Creatures and Beings than with Wizarding Britain’s populace or the Ministry itself, so it was probably just as well he’d returned with a job squared away already.

As he shared stories of his time up at Hogwarts, Draco turned to more fully face him, head tipped to rest against Charlie’s arm along the back of the swing, one leg tucked up on to the bench between them. There was a temptation to pull that foot up onto his lap, to have Draco’s legs draped over his own, but that wasn’t where they were in their friendship any longer.

A glance across the grass showed Fleur seated with her youngest in her arms, Bill having taken the older children back into the house to settle in to sleep until their parents were ready to bundle them home. Ron and George had joined Ginny and Harry, Hermione was crossing the grass to join them, Mum and Dad seemed to be inside overseeing their grandchildren’s comfort, and Percy and Penelope were wandering away toward the garden, deep in discussion, enjoying some alone time together.

Hogwarts stories winding down, Charlie stretched his free hand forward to take one of Draco’s. “But what about some closer friends, then? Made any of those, or just taking time where you find it?”

Draco stared down at their hands, his hesitation clear. “Opportunities for _close friends_ are much more limited here, in some ways.” His chewed on his lower lip for a moment, a new habit, before continuing. “I spent some time figuring out Muggle clubs here when I first returned. Not so different from the Muggle clubs on the Continent, of course. Less of a language or accent barrier, mostly. But that never felt quite right, you know.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Queer Wizarding Britain’s not very large, but it’s not inconsiderable either. I’ve tried a couple of the Wizarding clubs as well, once I had a better handle on where I might not run into trouble. It was just… it was a bit of a waste of time, really. Nearly everyone was willing to dance with me, but otherwise I’m considered too shady to do anything more with, or they’ve got a creepy kink for bad boys and hope I’ll play into some worrying fantasies.” He gave a full body shiver. “It’s not really something I’m comfortable indulging someone in without being _with_ someone, and that’s really been my only option.”

He gave Draco’s hand a quick squeeze, waiting until Draco made eye contact with him. “Are you sure? There must be someone out there who can see you for you who are now, and recognize what a catch you really are.”

A familiar, self-deprecating smile appeared on Draco’s lips. Over his shoulder, Charlie watched Harry’s jaw clench as he abruptly turned to look away from the porch. “Well, I thought there was someone.” The smile vanished, and his eyes dulled for a moment before his social mask slipped into place. “Sort of. But apparently not.”

Charlie ran his hand up Draco’s arm – comfort, reassurance, understanding – and took some dark pleasure in watching Harry leap to his feet, making excuses and giving a promise he’d return shortly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Draco.”

“I don’t really think I’m ready for something so serious, right now,” Draco admitted, picking at the seam in his trousers, looking endearingly shy. “I’ve been back such a short time. I haven’t really had the chance to do much to change my reputation. I mean, yes, the Creatures and Beings have become aware of what I’m accomplishing on their behalf, but virtually none of them had a bone to pick with me to start with. There haven’t been many opportunities to improve my standing with Wizarding Britain, and there likely won’t be for a few years yet. I assist with Law Enforcement occasionally, and some with International Relations, and even Magical Sports and Recreation rarely. Perhaps, with time, that’ll be enough of the right people to make moving on properly a possibility.”

“You’ll do it, if anyone can,” he encouraged.

Draco shrugged on elegant shoulder. “I am prepared, of course, to discover that it won’t happen in time to make a significant difference in my own life. Maybe it’ll be enough for my own child, however I manage having one.”

“Have you been thinking about it, then?” It was something that had come up while they worked together, though not necessarily as it affected their relationship. Draco intended to have an heir, though he was undecided as to whether he’d want a wife, a surrogate, or to attempt a magically assisted male pregnancy for himself or a partner. He’d considered himself too young at the time, and frankly hoped to choose his partner or accomplice from among their own people back home, but wasn’t in any rush to get it done and over with. The political climate for a brand new baby Malfoy was nowhere near safe.

“A bit more,” he admitted. “Now that I’ve been back, and visited St Mungo’s, and walked Diagon Alley, and been to some museums and parks and pubs, it all seems a bit more possible. Not enough to have someone I can visit any of those places with, yet, though. I suspect that’ll be… that’ll be a few more years down the road.”

“Yeah?”

“And if I haven’t found a partner in ten, fifteen years, I think I’ll just have to find someone willing to lend me some momentary assistance and just carry my child to term myself.” He huffed out a sigh and straightened up, turning to properly slouch in the swing, staring into the dark horizon out the far end of the porch.

A moment later, a collection of glasses and mugs floated into view, a more relaxed looking Harry trailing behind, as he brought drinks out to everyone on the lawn, including a particularly grateful Fleur.

“Will your heir be a Pureblood, do you think?” Charlie asked.

Draco snorted. “I’m not a Seer, how would I know?”

Charlie ruffled the hair at the back of Draco’s head. “Don’t be a brat, you know what I mean.”

“If I know what you mean, then you probably know how offensive the question is.” Draco elbowed Charlie’s arm out from behind himself before straightening his hair back out. “I won’t need a Pureblood heir. But I also don’t really see a Muggleborn or Half Blood wanting anything to do with me so far as reproduction goes, and while that still leaves everyone who’s neither of those but also not Sacred Twenty Eight, it’s also… Really, it’s impossible to guess what things will be like that far down the road from here. It’s going to depend entirely on the people who’ve settled into my life, and who’ve gone away.” He blinked rapidly for a moment, before lowering his head. “I can’t make any real plans to have children when I can’t guess who will consider my presence a shameful secret, you realize. Even if I’m a dark secret myself, I’ll certainly not allow my child to be.” His lips were pinched and his brow was slightly furrowed as he sat up, spine straight, shoulders back, and determined.

Charlie swallowed, recognizing the reproof in Draco’s tone. He wasn’t going to try to excuse his behavior when it came to having hidden how close he’d grown to the blond from his family, because there was no excuse. He’d had reasons, and they’d felt important at the time, and perhaps they had been. Mum had taken quite a long time to recover from the loss of Fred, and Draco had been indirectly responsible for Bill’s encounter with Greyback. It was also true, however, that Draco had been several years beyond the War and spent that time figuring out who he was, and who he ultimately wanted to be.

The young man who’d met Charlie at the reserve had already become a new man of his own, and that man had deserved to be taken more seriously than Charlie had been prepared to do. For as badly as he’d wanted to get into Draco’s pants, at any rate.

“I’m sure you’ll find that, Draco.” Charlie told him, gently pressing the back of his hand to Draco’s arm, hoping to convey his sincerity, before withdrawing. “You know I’m sorry I couldn’t be that for you in Romania.”

Draco gave a regal nod of his head, still avoiding eye contact. “We’ve discussed.”

“Do you remember what I said?”

“That you weren’t ready.” Draco darted a quick look over at Charlie, before switching to look at the Ember Mote on the top of the porch steps railing.

Charlie felt something in his chest squeeze, just a bit, and something in his stomach flip and twirl, just for a moment. “Which is true, I wasn’t ready, so long as I remained in Romania. So long as I was devoting my life to the reserve, and the dragons there. But you know, I’m not in Romania anymore.”

It was almost amusing, the way Draco’s fringe flew up, he turned his head so quickly. His crystalline eyes were wide with disbelief and shock. “I beg your pardon,” he breathed.

“It was a surprise to see you turn up with George, tonight,” Charlie admitted. “And it’s reassuring to have witnessed how well you get along with the rest of my family. But I’d been hoping to get back in touch with you some time this fall, after first session had gotten well under way. Perhaps see if you’d be willing to entertain the idea of trying again, but more seriously this time.”

Draco simply gaped in response, an unusual expression on him and one Charlie worked to memorize. It took a few more moments, but Draco’s cheeks bloomed with a dear color, poorly concealed by shifting shadows. “I… had no idea. I thought I was just meant for, well.”

“You weren’t. You actually scared me at the beginning,” Charlie admitted.

The unimpressed look Draco shot him was so familiar, so endearing. “Seriously. A scrawny, over educated, under-tried SWOT like me, with no decent reputation to speak of, scared the dragon taming Gryffendor Weasley beefcake?”

Charlie didn’t bother trying to contain his laughter. “Draco, have you no idea how entrancing you are? You were the first time I wished I’d out aged working on the reserve the way I was. I met you, and I wished I could set the dragons aside and just… you reminded me of my dreams to eventually settle down, Draco. You reminded me that I needed family, and stability, and someone to share all of that with.

“You’re a Pureblood, and I mean that in the most benign way. You understand what family legacy means to our people. You clearly understood the responsibility left to you, and made it clear you’d no intention of shirking those duties. I know I gave you a bit of a hard time, at first, but it was mainly to hide the fact that your honesty on that subject was so bloody, well, _sexy_ to me.” He couldn’t help himself, he covered his face with his hands and chuckled weakly into his palms as his face burned. “Merlin, that was so galling. That this little boy-man with his manners and his humility and his loyalty to the better parts of his upbringing only had to take such matters so damned seriously whenever it came up. It’s just as well that it didn’t come up often, I suppose.” Peeking through his fingers to see Draco’s flushed, astonished expression warmed Charlie’s heart, and he finally dropped his hands away to share his sheepish grin.

Charlie reached over and gently gave Draco’s knee a squeeze. “Just… something to think about, I suppose. No pressure. But you deserve to know that you are worthy of so much more. More than I was able to give while we were together. More than you seem to have right now.” He withdrew his hand slowly, giving the knee two gentle pats before reclaiming his hand entirely.

He was taken by surprise when a pair of mugs flew between them, breaking their line of sight and filling the air with the rich scent of coffee, two small plates carrying generous slices of fruit tart jostling forward for attention as well. “Pudding?” Harry asked, tone brightly solicitous, his own mug of steaming coffee clutched tight to his chest in one hand.

“Ah,” Draco said, and cleared his throat, before taking one of each from the air for himself. “Thank you, Potter,” was all that followed before his eyes dropped like a stone to his lap and he went silent.

Charlie accepted his own portions, setting the tart onto the arm rest as he gazed up at Harry who was doing an impressive job of looming without seeming to do so. “Thanks Harry,” he added, taking a quick sip before nodding his approval. “Had a good night, then?”

“Always do,” Harry returned, eyes flickering toward Draco’s lowered head and back at Charlie. “Didn’t realize the two of you were friends,” he continued, and then let the question hang unsaid.

Charlie shot him a toothy smile. “Draco worked on the Reserve in Romania for a while. There was no avoiding him entirely. Though really, who would want to?” He threw his arm out along the back of the bench, behind Draco again, and leaned back comfortably. “He was an amazing Healer when he arrived, and he left an even better one. Wizarding Britain’s better off with him back home again, wouldn’t you say?”

He could feel the way Draco’s back and shoulder muscles tensed against his forearm, but he didn’t bother looking away from Harry.

“Romania?” Harry blurted in surprise, then immediately scowled out at the pack of family that had formed out on the lawn. “I hadn’t, er,” he muttered, then stopped. “I suppose George did say something about asking for stories… I hadn’t realized it was a long enough stay to have become so close.”

Charlie glanced at Draco’s still bowed head, then stared back up at Harry. In low, serious tones, he said “He was with us two years. We became quite close.” His free hand returned to Draco’s knee and he simply rested it there, half expecting Draco to brush him off, half hoping Harry would issue a challenge.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words are had.
> 
> (I'm still not entirely comfortable with this chapter; perhaps one day I'll be able to square it away to my satisfaction, but in the mean time there's no reason to hold up the entire rest of the story over this stumbling block.)
> 
> The end swiftly approaches. Just need to determine whether I want one or two more chapters, and what direction the second half of the final chapter will go in (immediate, or more distant in the timeline).

He sat with his back propped against the tree, Draco between his legs and leaning back against his chest. They’d agreed to go on a hike, and he’d wanted to share the view from one of his favorite spots. They didn’t hike often, neither having the time and energy to spare, but it was one of his favorite things to do with Draco outside the house.

The trees were changing colors, brilliant oranges beside bright yellows and vibrant reds, a few trees managing to maintain an anchor of green as the season cooled and the sun ceased to linger. The hillsides were soothing in their quilted colors, and while his backside chilled on the slightly damp earth, his arms, chest, and legs were cozily warmed by the heat Draco pressed into him.

They hadn’t spoken much, mostly gesturing to things that had caught their notice as they walked and climbed. Draco enjoyed spotting amphibians and lichens, but never objected to being shown nests and cleverly concealed burrows.

During some of their breaks to catch their breath and take a look around, they’d make up stories about local woodland culture: posh owls, lazy but very horny rabbits, rogue fairy broom gangs. Today, though, they remained quiet. Sometimes they held hands, sometimes they’d sat apart and snacked, but for now he held a dream of his future in his arms.

Was he brave enough to hold on to it?

o/ ~ * ‘ * ‘ ~

Harry looked up from his mug of doctored tea, not bothering to hide his caution now that they didn’t have an audience. Charlie took the seat across the kitchen table from him, very aware of the sound of his chair creaking in the darkened silence of the Burrow with the other occupants all tucked safely into bed.

“So, Draco,” he said, focusing on the younger man’s expression, noting the clenched jaw and slight narrowing of his eyes.

“Draco,” Harry repeated warily.

Drawing a hand across the tabletop for something to do, Charlie cocked his head and heaved a sigh. “I don’t suspect he’s been shy about his preferences since he returned to England. We were together for a year in Romania, and my only regret about our time together was that I wasn’t prepared to move forward with him publicly.”

Harry drew a deep breath of surprise before lifting his mug for a sip and an excuse to hide his expression.

“I don’t know what you’ve got going on with him right now, but I saw the way you watched him tonight when you didn’t think anyone was watching. I also saw the way you and Ginny were wrapped around one another all night.” He didn’t bother to keep the censure from his tone. He’d been unfair to Draco in a variety of ways, but cheating hadn’t been one of them, and neither had keeping a beard.

The mug thumped dully on the table and Harry brought both hands up to cover his face. “Fuck.”

“Now, I’m reasonably certain you’re not shagging my sister while fantasizing about Draco, but I got the impression that he’s not currently spoken for. So, here’s what I’m doing right now.” Charlie shifted in his seat, clasping his hands together and leaning forward. “It’s been a few years, I’ve retired from the Romanian reserve, I’ve taken a stable position at Hogwarts. I want to start a family. I’m hoping I can do that with Draco.

“But I saw the way you’ve been looking at him all night, and I saw the way he looked at you. He didn’t look crushed, but he didn’t look happy, either. I don’t know what your intentions are toward him, but I’ll say this. Harry. Look at me, because you need to understand how serious I am about this.” Charlie waited until Harry had dropped his hands and was making mournful eye contact. “If you can’t make Draco happy, you need to let someone else try. I don’t know if that person can be me, but I’d certainly like to give it my best.”

Harry gave a silent nod before swallowing audibly.

“Draco deserves to be happy. But what you pulled tonight was a shit thing, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry admitted, taking a large gulp from his rapidly cooling tea. “We didn’t realize he’d be here tonight. I didn’t mean for him to see us like that. We’re not…” He heaved a great sigh and dipped his head low enough to thump it on the table. “Ginny and I, I mean, we’re not…”

“Then what the bloody fuck was that, tonight?”

Harry glared down at his mug for several moments before jamming a hand through his hair. “Look. You need to talk to Ginny about that. Or I need to talk to Draco about it, but it’s not for me to tell you about. I made her a promise, and I stuck with it, and I regret that Draco was here to watch, but… I’m not even sure what Draco and I are.” He paused and finally raised his eyes, clearly distressed but managing to keep his voice steady. “I fucked up. I _know_ I fucked up, alright? I need to have a talk with him, and we need to straighten ourselves out.

“But you know, as much as tonight was a bloody disaster, I don’t need you coming in here after over _ten years away_ pretending to be Draco’s white knight. Draco doesn’t need you pretending that, either.” Harry pushed the mug aside and crossed his arms on the table before himself. “I’ve been a fuckup for years. I’ve got more baggage with Draco than you’ve got. I haven’t treated him right, but what’ve you done? Hm?

“No one’s ever mentioned you were in a serious relationship, much less that you’d worked with Draco, at least not til he’d befriended George. Why didn’t anyone here know about that? If you were together for an entire year, not just shagging for a year, why hadn’t anyone heard about it? It gets hard to keep your rather serious lover separate from your family after a few months, I would know.” He scoffed, looking around the kitchen but clearly envisioning somewhere else. “Even if you live in another country, you still start wanting to mention that one time you were out with Draco and he mentioned something clever, or another time he impressed you with some extremely niche knowledge, or he appalled you with some unexpected bit of complete ignorance. Oh, that’s the flavor of tea Draco favors, or Draco knows someone in that profession and could help you get in contact with them.

“You need to work pretty hard at keeping them separate,” Harry repeated, eyes snapping back to Charlie’s, and he suddenly had a sense of how intense Harry’s focus could be. “And Draco knew not to mention his time with you to me, as well. Which means you’re not in any position to lecture me about how I’m not good enough for him.”


	7. Chapter 7

He stared down at the fair, bowed head, the drooping shoulders, the defensive set of Draco’s crossed arms. His heart ached, but his mind was made. This wasn’t their first fight, this wasn’t even their first fight on this subject. It wouldn’t be their last.

“Alright,” came Draco’s thready, watery voice. “Fine. I get it.” He sniffled, knuckled the tears from his eyes before setting an elbow on his knee and dropping his forehead to rest on upraised hand. “Do me a favor and clear out your stuff for me, would you?”

His breath whooshed out of him in an instant, leaving him light-headed. His heartbeat pounded in his ears for a moment before he gasped in fresh air and tried to make sense of the world. “What?”

Brilliantly angry silvered eyes snapped up to glare at him. “You heard me. And I’ve heard you. I’m not sure why you’re surprised, this is what you hoped would happen, isn’t it? You’ve been finding excuses not to see me, you’ve no intention of admitting what I am to you to your own family. It’s been a year. I’ve been a hidden shame for a _year_ , for you, and I’m done with it. I’m not going to waste my fucking life hoping you might deign to consider me worthy of more.”

“Draco, no-”

“I wasn’t on the winning side of the War, and I’ve admitted my part in it, I’ve served my community service sentence, but I’ve worked very hard to be someone better than that, very _fucking_ hard.” Draco’s voice cracked on the expletive, and he felt Draco’s hurt pierce his own heart. “Every time you cut your eyes away from me, every time you take the long route just so you won’t cross my path, every time you ask me to _hide_ whenever the Floo flares – you let me know that to you, I’m still the bigoted, stupid, ignorant child who called people names and had no concept of empathy but is at least good looking enough to fuck in the dark with the lights off and the curtains tightly drawn. _Fuck you._ I’m done with that, I’m done with you. I chose to be done with that life and I won’t let you drag me back there. Fetch your things and get out. Anything you don’t take with you, I’ll donate.”

He dropped to his knees and threw himself at Draco, wrapping him up in his arms. “Please, wait,” he breathed, suffocating on nerves, suffocating on guilt. “That’s not what this is about, Draco, I’m just not ready to-“

“You’re not going to be ready,” Draco interrupted. “You don’t _want_ to be ready. You want a warm body that knows how to go silent on command. You don’t want a friend, you don’t want a partner-“ he choked, bitter laughter swelling in the room. “What am I saying, of course you do. You just don’t want it to be me.” His eyes cut down, and they stared at one another. “You’re not good for me. We’re not good for me.”

Draco pushed to his feet, freeing himself from the embrace. “I’ll clear the bathroom, you can fetch your clothes. It shouldn’t take long. You’ve been quite careful.”

o/ ~ * ‘ * ‘ ~

He nearly vibrated with nerves, so keyed up was he.

They’d agreed to meet in a park in Muggle London to spend a day getting reacquainted before going to the Burrow, for him to introduce Draco as the man he was dating.

That had been a stipulation he’d come up with when he’d approached Draco to formally make his case for a second chance. Day one, sharing his intentions toward Draco with the family, sharing his family with Draco as _family_ rather than splitting his life in half: a comfortable, easy, but awkwardly hollow life on one hand, and an extraordinarily satisfying but ultimately isolated partnership on the other. He wanted to have it all, and he wanted Draco to know that he was part of a beloved whole. He wanted to show Draco off to his friends, he wanted to bring Draco to his favorite Wizarding spots and see Draco’s favorite places, he wanted to invite people back to a home he shared with Draco (if he was lucky enough to earn that privilege) .

He’d known Draco would be hesitant, doubtful, perhaps even suspicious.

But he was serious. He wanted to be the man to make Draco happy. He wanted to be the man who helped create and raise Draco’s children, he wanted to support Draco through his career, he wanted a lifetime of stupid jokes only the two of them understood, he wanted to balance Draco’s obsessive need for order in the kitchen with his lack of self-control when it came to that monstrous collection of toiletries on the bathroom countertop.

He wanted to draw Draco’s hips tight to his own, murmur his lascivious intentions onto Draco’s ear at the most inappropriate times just to see the color bloom on his fair cheeks while he firmly maintained that other wise impassive Malfoy mask. He wanted the whole world to know that he was the one Draco came home to.

He spotted Draco’s brilliant head of hair before being spotted, himself, and got to his feet, a travel mug of tea in each hand. He made his way forward, toward his future.


	8. Chapter 8

Draco heard the clatter of front door hardware, followed by the staccato scrabbling of crup claws on hardwood floors and the raucous laughter of his grandchildren underscored by their stampeding footsteps scattering throughout the house.

Well. He’d been reviewing the files long enough, and he’d promised to make the children their cocoa. He removed his reading glasses, tucked them safely into his desk, and got carefully to his feet – his hip was acting up again, part of the reason he’d been unable to join everyone else on their walk.

“Grandpa Draco!” came Antares’ shriek. The little monster had sweet _fangs,_ he was so aggressively partial to sugar.

Pulling the milk from the cold cabinet, Draco looked over as the tiny menace slid through the doorway before adjusting trajectory to pelt toward his frail grandfather. Not entirely unfamiliar with the practice, Draco already had his wand in hand and pulled a gradient version of a repelling charm up around himself, slowing the child’s progress more significantly the closer he got, til he was cackling with laughter each time he was bounced backward.

Mirach entered shortly, a book tucked under her arm and her nose a bright red in color. She’d somehow managed to take after him with her fair skin, and he dropped the charm to take them both into his arms now the milk was set to heat. “Grandda said you made the raspberry almond biscuits, is it true?” she asked, fluttering her mother’s hazel eyes up at him.

“No spoiling supper!” Daffy called down the hall. “Mir, we’ve talked about this…”

It was harder to worry about spoiling them when they were your grandchildren, but Draco wasn’t about to upset Daffodil when he’d be trapped with both her grudge as well as over-sugared children who were certain to rat him out when they were caught with biscuit crumbs on their clothing.

He’d just have to wait until later.

It wasn’t until he’d settled the dozen odd mugs on the tray that he heard the familiar tromp of his husband’s footsteps, bringing a smile to his face.

“Where’s my starlight?” came the familiar voice, aged and dear.

“In here! He’s in here Grandda!” Antares hollered, unfamiliar with the concept of the rhetorical question.

A fond smile creased his face as he levitated the tray over to the table, carefully carrying the pot of cocoa over by hand.

Warm hands landed at his waist and a gentle kiss was pressed to the side of his neck. “ _There_ you are,”

Draco set the cocoa down carefully, a hand coming up to keep his beloved’s head against his own. “Here we are,” he agreed quietly, with a contented smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the results of my incessant mental ramblings.
> 
> ~ ~
> 
> The cookies Mirach mentions are my personal favorite, a shortbread recipe (no egg, no worries about premature dough consumption - also good for prepping the dough at home, to bake fresh elsewhere). 
> 
> https://www.allrecipes.com/recipe/10222/raspberry-and-almond-shortbread-thumbprints/ 
> 
> If anyone was interested. ^_~ They're super light and fluffy, but you need to /not/ dig your measuring cup into the flour - dump it into your measuring cup from another cup and level it off, or it'll be quite dense... a good habit in any case for such things! (they taste fine either way, but the texture difference -- y'know what, try it both ways and see what you think) 
> 
> Also, don't try to sub vanilla for the almond. Or if you do, know that you're not getting the right flavor at all, even if it's still a decent cookie. The drizzle on top is integral and kind of a pain, but totally worth.
> 
> Gosh. I've been virtually silent over the months it's taken me to get this entire thing finished and out, and here I can't stop babbling about the dang cookie recipe. I'm gonna just shut up now.
> 
> Be safe, be awesome, stay strong, stay kind. <3


End file.
